Next week I’m going camping. And not the Texas variety of camping where you stay in a cabin and everyone thinks it’s “rustic” because there’s no internet and the TV is smaller than the one you’ve got at home.
No, I’m talking about real camping. Seven days on a desert island. With no snack bar. The kind of camping where you pack in all your food and water, sleep in a tent, and eat dehydrated food out of bags.
The kind of camping where you leave your phone behind because there’s not even a slight chance you’ll have cell service.
The kind of camping where you won’t hear the ping of incoming email or the rush of passing cars, but where you might see things like this little island fox I ran into on my last trip out there.
In other words, I’m doing the perfect kind of camping. I’m going off the grid. I can’t wait.